


I See You Left a Mark

by IllBeRightBack



Category: Nine Inch Nails (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Handcuffs, Humiliation, M/M, Punishment, Verbal Humiliation, age gap, i dont even know how to tag this it sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 20:28:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllBeRightBack/pseuds/IllBeRightBack
Summary: “I want you to say it,” Ilan almost whispered.“...Say what?” Trent asked, a little confused.





	I See You Left a Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Huge shout out to tgrsndshrks bc I was super stuck on this one. Try to enjoy I guess. It's trash as usual.
> 
> Title from the NIN song Discipline

“Whatever, old man,” Ilan teased, walking out of the recording booth.

“You can’t even drink yet, don’t talk shit to me,” Trent smiled a little.

“Yeah, OK, dad,” Ilan said, and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

There was a moment of dead silence before Trent spoke up.

“No idea you were into that, all you had to do was ask,” Trent taunted.

“Shut up, you know what I meant.” Ilan said, taking a seat in Trent’s lap.

“Any particular reason you’ve been such a brat today?”

“Any particular reason you like younger guys?”

This had been something Ilan had been thinking about a lot recently... And he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't think their age difference was a little hot.

“That’s a little out of nowhere,” Trent said, confused.

“It’s true though…”

“Um, no, it’s not,” He defended.

“Oh come on, you know it’s true… Why is everyone except for Robin half your age?”

“Talent,” Trent said quickly.

“Mhmm, sure,” Ilan hummed.

“Shut up, you’re the best drummer we auditioned,”

“Flattery will get you nowhere… Anyways, can we get the fuck out of here?” Ilan asked, suddenly distracted, “I think you need the cuffs tonight.”

Trent smiled and they headed back.

\---------------

A few drinks (and the clicking sound of handcuffs) later, Ilan was straddling Trent’s waist as he squirmed gently against the metal around his wrists.

Ilan was taking longer than usual, sitting still and eyeing Trent with an expression the other man couldn’t read.

“C’mon,” Trent breathed a little impatiently at not receiving any pain or pleasure yet.

“You gotta do something first,” Ilan said, biting his bottom lip.

“What?” Trent asked a little hesitantly.

“I want you to say it,” Ilan almost whispered.

“...Say what?” Trent asked, a little confused.

Ilan suddenly dug his fingernails into Trent’s bare chest, eliciting a hiss from the older man.

“You know what,” Ilan said smoothly, running gentle fingers over the indents he had made.

Trent thought for a moment before he remembered what they had discussed earlier.

“No,” He exhaled and closed his eyes.

Trent’s cheek was met with a harsh slap that stole the breath out of his lungs, catching him off guard.

“Just admit it,” Ilan said sweetly, like he hadn’t just smacked his lover across the face.

“It’s not true,” Trent said a little louder this time.

“I can sit here all night,” Ilan sighed.

“It’s. Not. True.” Trent protested, earning a calloused hand on his throat.

“You know damn well it is,” Ilan said, leaning a little closer.

Trent couldn't speak for a moment, Ilan eyeing him predatorily.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Trent continued, struggling to move his neck away from Ilan’s grip.

“Say it. Say you’re a dirty old man that hires young eye candy for his own pleasure,” Ilan almost growled, so close to Trent, their noses were nearly touching.

Trent would play along with this game and continue to be difficult as long as it got him punished.

Another slap to his reddening cheek, still burning from the last.

“It’s true,” Trent whimpered, a little more submissively than he’d like to admit.

“What is? I wanna hear you say it,” Ilan said, voice softening now to his inconsistent, loving tone.

Trent inhaled, holding Ilan in suspense and hoping for another harsh smack. He was granted his wish and Ilan’s hand contacted his face again, this time striking him with the back of his hand. Trent could feel the metal of one of his rings leave a developing welt.

“Get off on it, huh? Hiring boys half your age to be your puppets? You’re disgusting,” Ilan said, bordering on sadistic.

He dug his nails back into the frontman’s chest and dragged them down, leaving red lines down his flesh. Trent gave out a half-moan/half-cry at the sensation of pain.

“Secret’s safe with me… Just say it,” He said, voice softening now.

Ilan leaned down to him. Trent paused, breathing heavily before he made his confession.

“I get off on it,” Trent whispered, their faces dangerously close.

“Oooon what? On being a disgusting old man that gets to boss around boys half his age?” He prodded.

“Yeah. I like it,” Trent was having a little trouble composing himself, “I’m so dirty," he gasped out as Ilan clawed at him again.

Trent leaned up to try and meet Ilan’s lips, but the younger man pulled just barely out of his reach.

“You’re such a dirty old man, huh?” Ilan asked again

“Dirty old man,” Trent repeated breathlessly. 

Ilan laughed slightly, affectionately brushing a strand of hair out of the older man's face

“Was that so hard?”


End file.
